


Death, and death alone

by lunasenzanotte



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Atlético Madrid, Character Death, Concentration Camps, Dubious Consent, Dystopia, F/M, Footy Ficathon, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Real Madrid CF, The Ache in Your Legs Footy Ficathon, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 15:44:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4485295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunasenzanotte/pseuds/lunasenzanotte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dystopian dictatorship in Spain. Concentration camps. Sergio Ramos, high official of the army, is nominated the head of the biggest camp. There he meets his teenage crush Fernando Torres, labeled as a traitor for hiding escaped prisoners at his house and sent to the concentration camp with his family. Sergio still wants Fernando. Fernando only wants to get his family out of there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> The concentration camp is based on Auschwitz-Birkenau, which I visited and I know most things about. When I tried to imagine a modern concentration camp, I figured it actually wouldn’t be much different from the ones during WWII – especially if we think about a dystopian setting. 
> 
> The title is taken from Federico García Lorca’s poem Llanto por Ignacio Sánchez Mejias (Lament for Ignacio Sanchez Mejias).
> 
> Real Madrid are the villains in this fic. Consider yourselves warned.

__  
"History repeats itself, first as tragedy, second as farce."  
\- Karl Marx

 

  
**\- I -**   


  
There is never silence for Fernando, for when everything goes quiet, he can hear his daughter screaming.  
  
When the soldiers burst into their home in Madrid, Leo held onto Olalla’s skirts and hid his face in the folds of fabric, too scared to utter a sound. But Nora screamed. She screamed so desperately and loudly that Fernando wanted to cover his ears, but it would be useless. The screaming drilled through his skull and entered his mind, and it stayed there forever.  
  
Her screaming warned the men in the basement of Fernando’s house, but it was too late. The soldiers knew where to look, they knew exactly who they were looking for.  
  
Fernando didn’t know who betrayed him. He still doesn’t know.  
  
Antoine and Raúl stayed where they were, for there was at least a sparkle of hope in surrender, or at least they thought so. Only Mario took a chance and climbed through the small window on the level with the sidewalk. He didn’t even make it to the end of the street. There was no way he could outrun the bullets.  
  
Fernando doesn’t know why he felt sorry for him then. Now he thinks Mario was the lucky one.  
  


***

  
It’s almost dark when the truck stops. When the khaki tarpaulin is pushed aside, the first thing they see is darkness, before the bright light of electric torches almost blinds them.  
  
It’s exactly what Fernando expected, and yet he still doesn’t know what place he has landed himself in. But the first sight is all like he’d imagined it – darkness, white uniforms, loud voices and loaded guns.  
  
“Get down, quick!” someone yells.  
  
The men in the front start to jump hesitantly. One of those on the truck is an old man. He tries to jump down the deck, but finally he just drops down from it and lands in the mud underneath the wheels of the truck. For a long time nobody pays attention to him until a voice orders to take him away.  
  
As much as he hates himself for it, Fernando doesn’t care about him either, for there is something else that fills his mind, the only thing he’s able to care about in that moment. There is only one truck – the one they arrived in. Panic overwhelms him, now not because he doesn’t know where he is, but because he doesn’t know where his family is.  
  
The guard standing outside and counting the prisoners looks no less tired than them. There is also an officer standing a bit to the side, just observing them. The guard looks at Fernando and Antoine when they jump down the deck, and scribbles something in his papers. When the truck moves behind them and the lights illuminate the guard’s face, Fernando notices that he has a scar on his right cheek and another one splitting his upper lip. He can’t tell if the scars are a few months or a few years old, if they are simple remnants of his past or if this place is no kinder to guards than it is to prisoners.  
  
The guard walks over to the officer, shows him the papers and says something they can’t hear because of the engine of the truck. The officer scans the papers with his eyes and then nods. His face almost looks too kind for his job, and Fernando suddenly realizes how likely it is that this officer, this guard or any of the soldiers who hoarded them in the truck like cattle, has a wife waiting for him in a warm kitchen that smells of freshly baked bread like Fernando’s did, and a pair of children peacefully sleeping in their room like Leo and Nora did when he came back home late, and maybe a faithful dog that will curl up on the floor next to him and that he will be kinder to than he ever will be to anyone in this place.  
  


***

  
They walk past wooden barracks that already tell him that whatever this is, it’s not a normal prison. Antoine is keeping close to Fernando and Fernando wants to tell him that here he can’t protect him from anything anyway, but the presence of someone he at least knows is somehow reassuring.  
  
Suddenly the guards stop in front of one of the barracks. It looks exactly like the others, just the number painted in white above the simple wooden door differs it from the rest. The guards open the door and push them in. They can only hear the door close again because there’s less light inside. But they don’t need to see, it’s enough to feel. The human presence is overwhelming. People are everywhere, there are simply much more people than the building could accommodate.  
  
“This is not real,” Fernando whispers. “This can’t be real.”  
  
“It’s very much real,” someone says.  
  
Fernando turns around. The man is probably around Fernando’s age, but the dark circles under his eyes and the couple-days stubble make him look much older. “I’m Gabi,” he says and it sounds like he’s enjoying the taste of his own name, like he hasn’t said it for a long time. “Welcome to hell.”  
  
“This can’t be real,” Fernando whispers. “I mean... tell me that this isn’t really...”  
  
“If something happened once in the history, there’s no reason why it couldn’t happen again,” Gabi says.  
  
“How long have you been here?” Fernando asks.  
  
“For about six months,” Gabi replies casually. “More or less. There’s no calendar.”  
  
Fernando just gulps.  
  
“Any tips?” Antoine asks, sounding surprisingly bold and cool-minded, given the situation.  
  
“For what?” Gabi frowns.  
  
“Surviving.”  
  
Gabi lets out a chuckle. “Your chances of survival lower mine. That’s how it works.” He makes a few steps towards one of the wooden bunks. Then he turns back and something in his face softens. “If there’s something you don’t want to be stolen from you, sleep on it,” he says. “Keep some of the food you’ll get in the evening for the morning. There’s no food in the morning. And avoid predators.”  
  
“Who are the predators?” Fernando asks.  
  
Gabi just smirks. “In a couple of days, you’ll be able to tell.”  
  


***

  
The whistling comes when it’s still dark. Fernando almost can’t hear it over the screaming in his head, but he can feel the others move in the bunk next to him. They are so crammed there that if he didn’t move himself, they’d just pull him down. At night, Fernando realized that the body heat of the people around him was the only thing that kept him from freezing. He could feel Antoine snuggle up to him all night.  
  
Outside, it’s freezing cold and thick fog is covering up at least some of the terrible reality. The guards outside definitely belong to the armed forces of the regime. People call them Blancos, for their white uniforms. In the dirtiness and greyness of this place, the uniforms almost glow. There are mostly the young ones, not yet important enough to avoid the early morning patrols.  
  
Fernando doesn’t have the slightest idea of what is happening, so he decides to just mime Gabi, and Antoine follows his example. They stand in line like soldiers, except that they don’t stand to attention. Most of the men don’t look like they’d be capable of it anyway. Some of them are standing by the pure power of will, some are even supported by other inmates.  
  
Fernando focuses on the surroundings so that he doesn’t have to focus on the people around him. The fence seems to be endless. Concrete pillars stand in regular intervals, connected by wires that look so fragile, but Fernando knows that they are deadly. If he came near them, he could hear the quiet buzzing of electricity. Halogen lights on top of the pillars are now switched off, but they will shine again at night, allowing the armed guards on the watchtowers see any potential escapees.  
  
In the first moments, he was convinced that he’d find a way to escape. During the night, when every hour one of the white demons aimed a flashlight in his face, he started to doubt it. Now, he sees no hope anymore. His reasonable side prevails and tells him that if Gabi has been here for over six months, there is no hope. If there was a way to escape, a man like Gabi would certainly find it.  
  
They stand in the cold wind for long minutes, maybe hours. Fernando forgets about time eventually. Every now and then, someone in the line falls down, and nobody even moves to help them.  
  
Then, when the sun is rising, a car appears by the gate and two soldiers get out. The officer Fernando remembers from last night heads to them and the rest of the guards straighten their backs in a way that tells Fernando that whoever it is that has just arrived, he is important enough.  
  
And that’s when he sees him.  
  
His white uniform is perfectly starched and ironed, the buttons shine like brand new coins, and the red of his armband makes Fernando think of fresh blood. His hair is different now, neatly cut and combed to the side, but Fernando could recognize him from far away. He knows the way he moves and gestures while talking.  
  
He knew that Sergio joined the army after he finished school, probably for the lack of ideas as for what concerned his future, but he lost track of Sergio’s life soon. He started his own career, had family and new friends. He had never thought Sergio would make it this far. Well, if this is considered a good place to be among the Blancos.  
  
He wishes he could melt down to the mud under his feet when Sergio stops in front of him. He must have recognized him, the glint in his eyes tells Fernando as much, and there is maybe also surprise, well hidden from the others but not from Fernando who had once known how to read Sergio’s eyes. Sergio didn’t know that he was there. Fernando doesn’t know if it’s a consolation or if it doesn’t matter at all. At the moment, nothing matters.  
  
He doesn’t know how long he just stares at his old friend. But it must be long enough for one of the guards to poke him in the ribs with the barrel of his rifle. Fernando winces and blurts out his number like he’s heard the others do. Sergio doesn’t acknowledge him in the slightest and moves aside.  
  
He returns once more then, to overlook the lines like a commander overlooks his army. This is an army in rugs, fighting for nothing but one day more, and something in Fernando is waiting for Sergio to understand how wrong it is, for a hint of compassion or pity when he looks at the fallen bodies in the mud.  
  
“Clean this mess,” Sergio says then, and marches away.


	2. Two

It all started with the Basque Country. The many years of calling for freedom, armed fight, cease-fire, negotiating, threatening, it was all too constant, it caved its way in and finally, the government couldn’t hold the country together. Catalonia, always waiting for the Basques to make the first move, then claimed their rights right after them. Spain became a hewn piece of land, the government fell, and the country became a fertile ground for a dictatorship.  
  
The Blancos didn’t wait too long to take the power. They were the only army left in the country, which gave them almost all the power. The High Commander didn’t even try to feed the people lies about a better future, didn’t pretend to be a do-gooder, didn’t promise them a paradise on Earth. He just took power and that was it, nobody tried to oppose him.  
  
Until recently.  
  
It was soon after Leo’s birth when Fernando first heard about the Resistance. It originated in Valencia, which the Spanish government somehow managed to prevent from joining the rest of Catalonia, but soon another group started to form in Sevilla. Their work was almost imperceptible at first and what reached the citizens’ ears sounded more like legends supposed to make it easier to fall asleep.  
  
Then one day, Fernando's old friend approached him and asked him to join the Resistance. Fernando would have said no, he had a wife, children, a job that could feed them all which was a privilege. But David Villa had a wife and children too, he wasn’t poor either, and there he was, talking about undermining the system and restoring the monarchy and many things Fernando didn’t even understand.  
  
Villa said Fernando wouldn’t need to do much, he wouldn’t need to fight nor leave his house. All he had to do was to hide some people, always for a few days, until the Resistance picked them up and took them to safety. It sounded easy, and it really was, at first. Nobody suspected him of anything. He hid men and women in their basement, for two or three days, until in the middle of the night a car took them away and Fernando never saw them again.  
  
One of the people he met probably betrayed him, and suddenly he doesn’t even care who it was anymore.  
  


***

  
Sergio’s office isn’t a fancy place, it’s purely functional, but not uncomfortable at all. There are leather chairs for him to sit on, there is a heater to keep the room warm, and an older TV in case he wants to watch the news. Nobody ever watches them as there is rarely anything true. If there is anything he needs to know, it will arrive by other means.  
  
He wishes there had been a message that would have prepared him for what he saw in the morning.  
  
“Isco?” he calls in the direction of the adjoint office.  
  
“Sir?” the young sergeant salutes him.  
  
“Do you have the records of Block five?”  
  
“They’re in my office, sir. Should I bring them, sir?”  
  
“Yes,” Sergio says.  
  
The sergeant salutes him again and marches out of the room. Sergio puts his feet on the table in the meanwhile. He notices some dirt on his shoes. He makes a mental note to have one of the inmates clean them later.  
  
Isco reappears, carrying a thick file.  
  
“One of the new ones, that... Torres,” Sergio says in a lazy voice. “What is he here for?”  
  
If Isco is surprised, he conceals it well by flipping through the file. “Number two thousand twenty-nine,” he reads. “He was hiding escaped prisoners in his house. Suspected of collaboration with the Resistance.”  
  
“A political prisoner, then,” Sergio mumbles.  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
“All right,” Sergio nods then. “That will be all. Oh, wait, no. Tell Illarramendi to bring me someone to clean my shoes. And if that someone makes such a poor job as the last one did, tell Illarramendi that he will clean my shoes himself.”  
  
“Yes, sir. Will do, sir.”  
  
“Dismiss.”  
  
Isco salutes him one last time and marches out of the room.  
  


***

  
Every joint in Fernando's body aches and it’s only noon. He’s not used to physical work, but it’s the only work there is on the camp, it seems. They work in a rock quarry, apparently because they are new and still have enough strength. Out of those working there, only Gabi seems to be there for longer than a month or two.  
  
As Fernando understands, there is also a blacksmith’s shop and several other workshops on the camp, where they send those unable to work in the quarry. Also the infirmary is staffed by the inmates, as the Blancos couldn’t care less to take care of the prisoners. Working elsewhere than the quarry is a privilege Fernando hasn’t yet figured out how to earn.  
  
When it’s time for lunch, he’s so exhausted and hungry that he feels like he’d even eat the stones they are loading into carts. The inmates line up in front of a guard in a quite dirty white uniform, who is pouring soup from a huge pot into their bowls.  
  
Fernando moves to queue with the others when a young boy shoves him with surprising strength. Fernando doesn’t expect it and ends up face first in the mud. He sort of waits for the others to laugh at him, but there is no sound. Everyone keeps staring straight ahead, like they can’t see or hear anything else than the back of the person in front of them and the monotonous voice saying: “Next.”  
  
He notices that when it’s Gabi’s turn, the guy filling the bowls sinks the ladle deeper, to the bottom of the large pot, and pulls it out with a few pieces of vegetable. He does the same with the boy behind Gabi and they exchange meaningful looks. Fernando guesses that there is some kind of agreement between the guard and Gabi, and the boy is probably under Gabi’s protection. The system of favors, protection and service is complicated, but Fernando understands that this is how this place works.  
  
When it’s finally his turn, the ladle scrapes the bottom of the pot, but there’s not much left. Fernando looks at the one piece of carrot in his bowl and wonders whether he should be grateful for it.  
  


***

  
Sergio is pacing around his office. He still can’t believe the coincidence. He was named the head of the camp barely a month ago, and now they decide to send Fernando here.  
  
It didn’t surprise him when Isco told him what was Fernando's crime. He couldn’t really imagine Fernando to kill someone, or to do something elaborate like lead an illegal group or plan terrorist attacks. But there was the sense of justice Sergio remembered from their teenage years, and the constant need to help others. Hiding escaped prisoners was just the thing Fernando would do.  
  
Sergio remembers the days before the Blancos took control over the rest of Spain. He and Fernando were in their late teens, they watched the country fall apart with more future-related anxiety than nostalgia. They could have made it through together. They could have been here together, wearing the same uniform. Sergio held out his hand back then, but Fernando refused to take it.  
  
When Fernando decided to leave, to have his own little life with a wife and children, Sergio couldn’t stop him. There was nothing he could do to make him stay, nothing he could to to make him his. Fernando had the control of his own life.  
  
And if Sergio believed in God, he’d think God was giving him a second chance.  
  
Sergio is the one in control now.  
  


***

  
“I told you,” Gabi says calmly when Fernando joins the group, carrying his precious bowl of soup in dirty hands. “Your chances of survival lower others’ chances. They’ll kill you over a bowl of soup.”  
  
“I noticed,” Fernando says curtly.  
  
Gabi looks almost contented when he sits on the ground and leans his back against the giant wheel of a truck. Fernando wonders if he will one day come to terms with his fate like this, or if he will die before that.  
  
“What are you here for?” he asks then.  
  
Gabi lifts his head and looks at him. “I worked in a factory that was making guns for the Blancos. Then the army found out someone’s been putting sawdust in them, and they obviously didn’t work well. They investigated, and found out which shift was responsible for the guns. I was the shift foreman.”  
  
“Did you really do it?” Fernando asks.  
  
Gabi smirks, a hint of pride still shining through his grave expression. “The hell we did.”  
  
The eat in silence for a while. Then Gabi looks at Fernando like he’s appraising him, like he needs to put him in some kind of a catalogue he carries in his head. “Why are you here?”  
  
“I hid some people in my house,” Fernando says. “Antoine was one of them. Someone denounced me. I don’t know who.”  
  
“It doesn’t matter,” Gabi shrugs. “There will always be someone like that, who’ll sell you for a better job or for food rations. This is the one thing that this place has in common with the outside world.”  
  
Fernando looks at him incredulously. “You speak about this all like it was okay,” he whispers. “Like it was okay to put people in a place like this, people who... didn’t even kill anyone.”  
  
“Didn’t even kill anyone,” Gabi repeats and smirks. “At least you did something. Look at Saúl.”  
  
Fernando follows the direction Gabi is pointing in. His eyes find the boy who shoved him earlier, the one Gabi watches over.  
  
“His two brothers were in some kind of illegal group. He had no idea they were a part of something like that, until the Blancos threw him in here. And who do you think cared?”  
  
Fernando gasps when he imagines it. He at least knew that the possibility of being caught was there, he kind of had to expect the guards after every knock on the door. He can’t imagine how that boy had to feel when they just grabbed him and threw him into this hell for simply having brothers.  
  
“Break is over!” one of the guards shouts.  
  
Gabi scrambles to his feet and gives a few men around them a pat on the shoulder that’s probably meant to be encouraging. Fernando understands now why the guards would want to keep Gabi here, and why they’d want to keep him alive. He does what they can’t do even with their guns or shouting. Gabi keeps the order, makes sure the people here don’t throw themselves on the ground and don’t wait for death like that.  
  
Fernando's learned not to trust anyone. That’s why he hesitates to ask, despite the situation that probably can’t be worse. But Gabi doesn’t look like he wants to sell Fernando for any privilege for he simply has all that he can possibly have here.  
  
“Gabi?”  
  
Gabi turns to him, then carefully looks around his shoulder. The guard supervising their work is too far to hear them and his attention is turned to two men who are trying to push a cart filled with rocks. “What?”  
  
“When they arrested me... I wasn’t alone,” Fernando says. “My wife and children... Do you have any idea where they could have taken them?”  
  
Gabi thinks for a while. “There’s a women’s camp,” he says. “Not far from here. They could be there.” Then he pauses. “Small children?” he asks.  
  
“My daughter is six, and my son is five.”  
  
Gabi looks thoughtful for a while, then he just shrugs and picks up the shovel again. Fernando bites his lip and looks to the fence. He has to know what happened to his family, if only to know whether his life still has sense or he can already give up. And he knows that there is only one way to find out.


	3. Three

Sergio puts down the tiny porcelain cup and looks down at the boy who is polishing his shoes.  
  
“Certainly better than last time,” he notes.  
  
Corporal Illarramendi, standing at the door, visibly relaxes. Sergio narrows his eyes. He knows that Illarramendi is one of those who have their favorites whom they tend to keep from the worst chores. Polishing the shoes of the Commander in the warmth of his office instead of working in the rock quarry is a privilege all the prisoners would kiss Illarramendi’s feet for. Not that Sergio would generally disapprove of it, but then, such favoritism can’t be at the expense of the state of Sergio’s shoes.  
  
“Take him back, Illarramendi!” Sergio orders.  
  
Illarramendi nods and grabs the boy’s arm, more harshly than necessary, probably not to give Sergio any reason to think that he favors him, and the boy plays along, though the hiss he lets out is probably genuine.  
  
Before he can make any remark, the phone on Sergio’s table rings. He groans and stretches to pick up the speaker.  
  
“Ramos!” he barks like he intends to intimidate the person at the other end before they can even speak.  
  
“Benítez speaking,” sounds from the phone. “We have a transport that we need to place. Do you think we could...  
  
“No. We had a transport yesterday. Do you think that this place is inflatable?” Sergio retorts.  
  
Since the High Commander decided to get rid of Carlo Ancelotti, who was in charge of the camps, nothing seems to work.  _It’s always the competent ones that earn a bullet in the head_ , Sergio muses. Benítez thinks that the camps are magical places where people simply disappear forever and there is no need to care about anything anymore. Essentially, it’s what should be happening, but it’s not that simple.  
  
Benítez is trying to argue with him, but Sergio is adamant. “Block six is not finished yet. We don’t have enough people. Already the soldiers are working longer than they should.”  
  
“When do you think it will be finished?” Benítez asks.  
  
“I’m not a fucking architect!” Sergio snaps. “Next month, maybe.”  
  
“We need it in two weeks,” Benítez says and for the first time he doesn’t sound like he’s willing to take scoldings from Sergio. “I don’t care how you do it, but you’ll do it. Use whips on those lazy asses if they don’t move quickly enough, but we need it to be done.”  
  
Before Sergio can say anything, Benítez hangs up. Sergio regrets that the prisoner is already gone with Illarramendi because he really needs to ventilate his anger and kicking an inanimate object isn’t satisfying enough.  
  
“Isco!” he barks.  
  
“Sir?” Isco runs in like he had been listening behind the door.  
  
 _You probably were, you sneaky little bastard_ , Sergio thinks.  
  
“Get me that guy from Block five that Iker speaks about all the time,” he says. “The one that apparently keeps up the morale in the quarry, you know who I mean.”  
  
“Gabi, sir,” Isco nods, then becomes nervous because he’s not supposed to know any of the prisoners by their names, leave alone by nicknames.  
  
“That one,” Sergio nods. “And quickly. I don’t have all day.”  
  


***

  
Fernando looks at his hands, covered in blisters and blood. He keeps thinking about what would happen if he simply threw the shovel on the ground and refused to move anymore.  
  
“Hold on,” a boy next to him says so quietly that Fernando wonders if it’s not just his imagination. “It will get better.”  
  
“How?” Fernando frowns.  
  
“The skin gets rough, and then you’ll feel nothing,” the boy explains and then looks towards the gate. “Shit, what does he want?”  
  
There is a young soldier in a white uniform too clean for him to belong to those taking care of the prisoners, coming to them and looking around like he’s looking for someone. Then he joins one of those that are overseeing the work on the site.  
  
“Gabi!” the guard shouts. “Move your ass and come here, quick!”  
  
Despite the words, Gabi takes his time to put the shovel down, he even wipes his hands on his shirt before moving in the direction of the soldiers. The boy next to Fernando looks worried. “This can’t mean anything good,” he mumbles.  
  
“Do you mean that they want to...” Fernando whispers.  
  
“Anything good for  _us_ ,” the boy adds. “Not for Gabi. He’s too valuable for them, even though they’d never admit it.”  
  
Fernando wants to say something more, but in that moment a guard appears behind their backs. “Are you working or are you in a discussion club here, Koke?” he barks.  
  
“Working, sir,” Koke replies swiftly and moves away from Fernando.  
  
The guard gives them both a warning glance and walks away. Fernando grips the shovel tight and trying to ignore the burning sensation in his palms, decides to take his mind off the work by thinking about his plan.  
  


***

  
They are already back in the barracks when Gabi comes back. Fernando notices the little group that always trails behind him now gathering around him like Gabi is a preacher and they are waiting for their daily sermon. He doesn’t care. He has enough thoughts in his head to be occupied with.  
  
“They can’t be serious!” Koke’s voice gets to his ears.  
  
“They are very much serious,” Gabi says. “Ramos’ chair is rocking under him, and everyone knows you don’t go to a good place from here. Except heaven, which wouldn’t be Ramos’ case.”  
  
“So what now, are we going to work also at night?” someone asks. “Not that I care, at least it will kill me faster.”  
  
“Shut the fuck up, Gámez,” the boy sitting next to Gabi snaps. “Your death is pretty much your own business, you don’t have to wait for the Blancos to kill you if you want to die. Unlike you, there are people that want to live, and I think your food rations would be of great help.”  
  
“You’re not touching a single bread crumble that belongs to me, Saúl!” Gámez snickers.  
  
“Shut up, both of you!” Gabi says. “The fact is that they want Block six complete in two weeks. That means only one thing for us.”  
  
“Working as slowly as we can and making them get rid of Ramos?” Koke grins. “I’m on it.”  
  
“They’d kill us for that,” Gámez mumbles.  
  
“If I can take Ramos to hell with me, I’m willing to die for it!” Koke chuckles.  
  
Gabi and the others smile as well, but it’s the kind of smile that suggests that everyone knows it was merely a joke and there is another plan on their minds, a plan Fernando has no way of finding out about, and he doesn’t really want to. He has his own plan now.  
  


***

  
“Did Benítez make you that angry?” Iker Casillas muses, looking at Sergio stabbing his fork in the plate of pasta like he’s trying to kill something.  
  
“What?” Sergio asks and looks at him.  
  
“You’re acting weird,” Iker explains. “You haven’t said a word all evening. So I thought it it has to do with Benítez.”  
  
“Well, that too,” Sergio mumbles. “He doesn’t even know how the system works. Of course I can make them build Block six in two weeks. But I bet that then he’ll call and tell me to build Block seven.”  
  
Iker just shrugs and finishes his wine. “That’s Benítez. But if we’re lucky, he’ll soon be gone as well.”  
  
Sergio makes a non-committal sound and pushes his plate away.  
  
“That’s not the only thing on your mind, though,” Iker states.  
  
“No,” Sergio admits. “It’s one of the new inmates. It’s someone I know. Or used to know.”  
  
“Such things happen,” Iker says and looks at Sergio. “You know that it means nothing. Whatever you feel...”  
  
“I feel nothing for him,” Sergio barks. “Nothing positive, at least.”  
  
Iker looks amused. “Some guy that used to pull your hair at school? Or stole your girlfriend? Back when you pretended to be into girls?”  
  
“No. My teenage crush,” Sergio makes a face. “I was head over heels over him. We spent time together, we fucked a couple times, then when we were done with school he just said he was actually into girls and found a girlfriend and a job and took off.”  
  
“So what?” Iker shrugs. “People grow up. Only you never did.”  
  
Sergio makes a face. “Only that now I’m here, and he’s fighting over stale bread out there,” he says. “And I’m ready to make him regret it.”  
  


***

  
Fernando spent more than a day thinking about how to get closer to Sergio. He can’t believe his luck when he finds himself in the office, with his old friend sitting in a comfortable armchair and looking at him like they said goodbye only yesterday.  
  
“Have you learned how this place works already?” he asks in a conversational tone of voice while Fernando is scrubbing the floor of the office.  
  
“I’ve learned that you have to know the right people, and get them to like you,” Fernando says. “If you want to have a chance.”  
  
Sergio practically beams at him. “You were always the brighter one out of us two,” he sighs. “Yes, that’s right. And the main person that you’d want to like you is me.”  
  
“Why you?” Fernando asks, meeting his eyes for the first time. “I almost don’t see you out there.”  
  
“There are many things I can offer you from here,” Sergio shrugs. “Better food. Better work placement. How I treat you depends on how you treat me, though.”  
  
“I don’t want better food, nor better work,” Fernando says quietly. “I want something else.”  
  
Sergio raises his brows and leans back in the armchair. “Tell me.”  
  
“I want to know what happened to my wife and children.”  
  
“Oh,” Sergio says, his face unreadable. “You are quite demanding.”  
  
Fernando stays quiet, looking somewhere between the tips of Sergio’s shoes and his own wet knees.  
  
“How am I supposed to know that?” Sergio sighs. “They are not here, that is for sure, and I can’t see past the fence any better than you.”  
  
“I think that you can,” Fernando whispers.  
  
“Well...” Sergio smirks. “I could try. But it won’t be for free. The first thing you have to learn is that nothing is free here.”  
  
Fernando takes a deep breath. He was preparing himself for it, but he still feels the lump in his throat. “I know.”  
  
Sergio just raises his brows. Fernando shuffles closer on his knees, thinking about where the hell did his old Sergio go, what it took for the Blancos to brainwash him into this monster that treats people like things. Back in their teenage years, everyone loved Sergio after spending merely a minute with him. Now everyone hates him after about the same amount of time.  
  
When Sergio reaches for him, Fernando almost startles. For a mere moment he thinks that Sergio will pull him up and kiss him, and the thought is suddenly so disgusting that he almost feels relieved when Sergio just guides him to his crotch.  
  
Fernando tries to think about details so that the main idea of this all can’t enter his mind. He thinks of how stiff and rough the leather of Sergio’s belt is and that it must be new. Thinks of the wrinkles on Sergio’s shirt and the dryer smell of it. Sergio’s hand is in his hair, pulling at the lank strands. It’s familiar and yet the last time he did this seems so far away. Like those memories are from a whole different life.  
  
Sergio’s fingers pulling at his hair bring him back to reality, just in time for him not to choke. He falls back on his heels and wipes his mouth. He expected that he’d feel guilty, dirty, disgusted. But he feels just numb.  
  
“I still remember when you did this in the bathroom at the party in Silva’s house,” Sergio chuckles. “Silva was furious when he walked on us.”  
  
Fernando tenses when he hears him speak Silva’s name, but the tone of Sergio’s voice tells him that he knows nothing. He wouldn’t be bringing those memories up if he knew that Silva was now one of those leading the Resistance from exile.  
  
“Those were the good times,” Sergio says and the nostalgia almost seems to be genuine.  
  
Fernando wants to ask if by the good times he means that Fernando was sucking his cock whenever they got drunk at one of the countless parties, or rather that there were no Blancos and no Grand Commander Pérez and no places like this one, that it was all merely starting, with Basque teenagers waving the  _ikurriña_  wherever they looked and the Catalonians holding fiery speeches on every second radio station.  
  
“You will look for my wife, then?” Fernando asks after a moment of awkward silence.  
  
Sergio blinks and then looks down at him like he’s just woken up from a dream. “Yes, yes, of course,” he says, somehow distracted. “I’ll do whatever I can.”  
  
Fernando picks up the brush and bucket from the floor and gets up. Sergio watches him with cold eyes, back in his role, and Fernando hunches forward as well not to raise suspicion. All he can do now is to wait.


	4. Four

The next time Fernando finds himself in Sergio’s office, summoned for the task of cleaning the windows, they end up on the plain couch in the corner of the room.  
  
Sergio doesn’t make love to him. It’s far from that. He’s not violent nor really rough, but there are no emotions in it, it’s like Sergio is using a thing that belongs to him. It rids Fernando of his humanity, of his right to feel anything else than physical sensations, because he can’t even hate Sergio. He’s too afraid that Sergio could tell. But then, he probably knows anyway.  
  
“I found your wife,” Sergio says casually while buttoning up his shirt.  
  
Fernando's head snaps up.  
  
“In the women’s camp,” Sergio continues. “I sent Coentrão to look for her. Apparently she’s working in the sewing room there.” He looks at Fernando's pale face and laughs. “Come on, it’s not so bad. That’s one of the best jobs there. She must be skilled, otherwise they wouldn’t let her do it. They sew uniforms for the higher officers, you can’t do that if you’re clumsy.”  
  
Fernando blinks quickly to get the image of Olalla out, but it’s already burned in his retinas, her back sore from bending over the sewing machine, bloody fingers, eyes tired from the bad light. “She didn’t do anything,” Fernando whispers. “She doesn’t deserve...”  
  
“It’s not up to me to decide what she deserves or not. I’m not the head of that camp,” Sergio smiles. “And just between us, Commander Rubio is not a person I’d like to meet for a cup of coffee. I’d be afraid that it would be a ninety-nine percent solution of cyanide. So I’m afraid that I can’t interfere.”  
  
Fernando only nods absent-mindedly. Then it hits him. Sergio just gave him what he asked for. Why would he do it if it meant that now Fernando had no reason to do what he wants, except maybe to stay alive?  
  
“Maybe...” Sergio says quietly like he’s talking only to himself. “Maybe... if she knew you were alive, it would... cheer her up? Maybe.”  
  
Fernando stares at him with wide eyes, but before he can take a breath, Sergio calls on Illarramendi to take Fernando back, trapping him between hope and suspicion.  
  


***

  
The rumors spread quickly in the camp. The others have started to keep their distance from Fernando. Even Antoine rarely talks to him now, instead Fernando sees him discussing something with Koke every time the guards aren’t around.  
  
Antoine was sent to work in the blacksmith’s shop soon after their arrival. He appeared in the quarry only occasionally, when there was no work at his place. This morning, however, he’s back with Fernando's group. The ground is glistening with white frost in the places that are still covered by grass.  
  
It takes Fernando a while to realize that they are not heading to the quarry. He is too lost in his own thoughts, but the road they take is different. It leads them out of the camp, behind the small pond and forest that is behind the now almost completed Block six.  
  
Then they stop. There is nothing but plain ground with rectangles staked out somehow hastily. When the guards give them shovels, it’s quite clear what they have to do. Nobody speaks, except for occasional cursing because the ground is frozen and dry.  
  
Then, when their piece of work is beginning to take shape, a single word cuts through the monotonous sound of digging.  
  
“Graves.”  
  
Everyone turns to the place where the voice came from. Even Fernando follows it’s direction with his eyes. It’s the young boy from Fernando’s barrack he talked about with Gabi once, one of the youngest there. Saúl is what he’s heard the others call him.  
  
“Graves,” he repeats. “We’re digging our own graves.”  
  
Then he starts laughing, and laughs and laughs and laughs, until a rifle butt of one of the guards hits him in the face and silences him.  
  


***

  
This time, after he fucks him, Sergio lets Fernando write a short message for Olalla. He reads it after Fernando is done, of course, and tucks it in his pocket, promising that he’ll try to deliver it. Fernando has no idea why he trusts him. Probably because he doesn’t have a choice.  
  
This time Sergio also ushers him out sooner than usual, and he starts going through some papers before Illarramendi even leads him out of the office.  
  
When he returns to his barrack, it’s already dark. On his way he passes Gabi’s bunk. Saúl has a bruise on his cheek, it’s dark red and swollen and it probably hurts like hell, but he doesn’t make a sound, just lies on the wooden bunk and stares at the dirty ceiling.  
  
“One day we’ll all end up like that,” Antoine mumbles. “We’ll go mad here.”  
  
“He’s not mad,” Gabi says in a low but resolute voice. “He’s completely sane, and unlike you, not delusional.”  
  
“Delusional?” Antoine frowns. “Thinking that we’ll stay here until we go crazy is delusional? What else can happen?”  
  
Gabi sighs deeply. “Have you never thought about why the Blancos looked so nervous lately?” he asks. “The armies from Valencia and Sevilla are not as far away as they make people think. They are losing the war already, the last city still standing is Madrid. And when they come, do you think that the Blancos will let them see what they did here? They’ll kill us all and burn this place down. They have an example in the history to follow.”  
  
“How do you know all that?” Fernando asks.  
  
“I know how to listen,” Gabi retorts. “And I have way less opportunities to do so than you have. Given where you’ve just returned from.”  
  
Fernando realizes that Gabi is looking at his neck and he rubs it like he can make the marks left by Sergio’s teeth go away, like they are just dirt that can be cleaned. He knows that nothing will ever wash them away.  
  
“Gabi?” Saúl says, his voice weak but strangely solemn. “If I ever think of doing this, promise that you’ll strangle me.”  
  
The words are more desperate than condemning, but Fernando still feels his shoulders sag under their weight, like he’s suddenly the lowest of the low, like he’s betrayed everyone and most of everything, himself.  
  
“I promise,” Gabi’s low, calm voice replies in the semi-darkness. “If I have enough strength to do it, I will.”  
  


***

  
Sergio paces around his office. He feels even more restless after Fernando left, instead of sated and relaxed and satisfied.  
  
It doesn’t bring him pleasure, because Fernando doesn’t hate him, doesn’t fight back, he just does everything Sergio says, and there is no amusement in breaking people that are already broken. He’d have more fun with any other prisoner if he wanted to, but he doesn’t.  
  
There are other things on his mind. He might be living in his own little world here, far away from everyday problems, but those problems are now knocking on the gates and he can no longer ignore them.  
  
There is war raging outside.  
  
He hears the news every day, the news that never make it on the television screens or in the papers but that everyone knows nevertheless. When the first tank entered Valencia, some guy filled his pockets with grenades and jumped under the wheels of the tank. In Sevilla, merchants burned their shops down so that the Blancos couldn’t take the goods. No doctors in Valencia hospitals could be trusted by anyone in a white uniform, with soldiers dying under mysterious circumstances after being admitted with minor injuries.  
  
The government tried to at least localize the Resistance headquarters. In vain. The traces led everywhere – the States, England, Italy, Brazil... Even the Basques and Catalonians, who until then kept out of everything, started to mingle in, hiding people who managed to cross the borders, issuing fake papers for them.  
  
Those that sank Spain in the first place are now trying to save it. Pathetic.  
  
What worries Sergio more is that the government is already thinking about losing. The recent phone calls from Benítez only confirm his suspicions. They are already planning how to cover up for everything. In case things go wrong.  
  
Sergio knows that if the camp goes down, he will go down with it. But it is not going down, not yet, and he will hold his ground as long as he can.  
  


***

  
The days are colder now and it gets dark sooner, which means one or two hours of work less because no matter how quickly they need Block six to be built, not even the Blancos can order the sun not to set.  
  
Fernando grows numb to more things than cold, just as the others told him he would. His hands are calloused now, no more blisters form on them even after working all day. Gabi‘s group keeps to themselves, and as Antoine apparently became friends with Koke and Saúl, sometimes Fernando doesn‘t speak with anyone the whole day. He grew numb to that as well.  
  
Sometimes the guards send Fernando to work in the infirmary when it‘s necessary. He doesn‘t know if Sergio has something to do with it but he doesn‘t care. He almost wishes he didn‘t have this privilege, because watching people he can‘t help anyway is worse than pushing carts with rocks.  
  
He hasn’t seen Sergio for a couple days, and he doesn’t know if it confirms Gabi’s suspicions, or if Sergio simply got tired of him, but he dreads both. He can’t get to his family without Sergio, although sometimes he can’t believe his naivety that makes him think that Sergio would actually help him. But he needs something to believe in, or else he would go mad.  
  
He is so lost in thoughts that what happens catches him off guard.  
  
The explosion makes more noise than damage, but Fernando throws himself on the ground anyway. A few pieces of bricks land around him and a cloud of white dust flies in the air.  
  
“Now!” Gabi’s voice shouts.  
  
Saúl launches himself at the supervising officer and wrestles the rifle out of his hands before the officer even understands what is going on. There is a shot which makes Fernando cover his head instinctively. When he dares to look again, the officer is laying on the ground, bleeding.  
  
Gabi’s voice reaches his ears again, now sounding distant and muffled. “Run! Run!”  
  
Then he catches a flash of blonde hair. Antoine. He’s on it with them. He knew what was going to happen and he didn’t tell him anything. For a while, Fernando feels betrayed, angry.  
  
But he can’t run away. He can’t even try. The only way to save his family is to stay like that, to pretend that he didn’t know anything. And actually it’s not pretending, because he didn’t know this would happen. So he just lays there, unmoving, covering his head while the sound of gunshots grows more distant.


	5. Five

“How could this happen?” Sergio shouts at the officers and guards lined up in his office.  
  
Iker is lying on his couch, the wound hastily bandaged. It takes forever for the doctor to arrive.  
  
“The power in the fence was out, sir,” Isco says. “But the wires are intact. Someone had to switch the power off.”  
  
“And I will want to know who,” Sergio growls. “And I will want his head.”  
  
 _Before Benítez gets mine_ , he thinks gloomily.  
  
“Sergio...” Iker whispers suddenly.  
  
Sergio tears his gaze from Isco’s pale face and looks at him. Iker’s eyes look hazed, unfocused.  
  
“He was mad,” Iker breathes out. “That boy. He was mad. You’d have to see his eyes...”  
  
Sergio frowns, trying to make out any sense out of Iker’s words, but then he turns back to Isco and the others. “I want the prisoners counted, and carefully. I want to know how many are running somewhere out there. And I want the guards doubled at night.”  
  
Isco nods and runs out of the office. Sergio looks at the ruins of Block six, illuminated by the lamps like they are in the spotlight, mocking him. It will take weeks to rebuild it. He is not entirely sure that he will get to see it complete.  
  


***

  
Fernando gets to the infirmary only when it’s already night. They counted the prisoners four times. It took hours. Fernando didn’t care. It wasn’t nearly as bad as when they sent them to the forest to retrieve the bodies of those who didn’t manage to escape. He carried Antoine’s body all the way back to the camp and he wanted to cry, but the tears just didn’t come. The place claimed him whole and now it denied him proper grieving.  
  
“They left you alone here?” Fernando asks when he sees Gabi on one of the beds.  
  
“No danger,” Gabi smirks. “I can’t move my legs.”  
  
Gabi shouted at the others to run, but he didn’t run himself until he was sure everyone made it past the fence, and then it was too late. He was the first one the guards got with their bullets, and most likely it was unintentional, or just a stray bullet that caught him in the lower back. Fernando would think about whether Gabi would ever be able to walk again, if he didn’t know that it would be a stupid thought. Gabi will be dead before the wound even closes.  
  
Gabi licks his dry lips when Fernando stops at his plank bed. “Did he make it?” he asks. “Saúl. Did he make it out?”  
  
“I think so,” Fernando whispers. “They sent us for the bodies. His wasn’t there.”  
  
“Good,” Gabi breathes out.  
  
Fernando looks over his shoulder to make sure they are alone. “Why didn’t you tell me anything?” he asks. “I could have helped.”  
  
“It was too dangerous,” Gabi shakes his head. “We didn’t know what was between you and Ramos. It would have been too risky to tell you.”  
  
 _As if I wanted to tell Sergio anything_ , Fernando thinks bitterly, but he knows that he can’t blame them.  
  
“Antoine is dead,” he says bluntly and looks out of the window. “Jesús too.”  
  
“It was win all or lose all,” Gabi says calmly. “They knew it.”  
  
Fernando knows that he’s right. Saúl and Koke made it out. They won all, if they have a plan and manage to hide well enough. And as for Jesús and Antoine, when Fernando thinks about it, a bullet was the better option. If he was like them, if he had nothing to lose, he’d want to die fast rather than freeze to death in the barracks.  
  
“I’ll tell you how to get out of here,” Gabi whispers. “And to get out your family as well.”  
  
Fernando shakes his head. “There is no way.”  
  
Gabi stares right back at him. “There is.”  
  
“Then why didn’t you do it that way?”  
  
“It’s not a way for many people, it’s a way for one,” Gabi explains. “But it won’t be for free.”  
  
“Nothing is.”  
  
“They’re just keeping me alive so that they can kill me in front of all of you,” Gabi whispers. “You’ll kill me before they can.”  
  
Fernando takes a step back. “I can’t.”  
  
Even in pain, Gabi is adamant. “Take it or leave it,” he says. “I’ll die with or without you. But if you don’t help me, I’ll take that secret to the grave.”  
  


***

  
Fernando doesn’t answer, not immediately. He sits in the corner of the room, unmoving. When the door opens and Sergio with other uniformed men walks in, they most likely don’t even notice him.  
  
“Nice plan,” Sergio states, looking at Gabi with narrowed eyes. “You stole the key to the warehouse, didn’t you?”  
  
“No,” Gabi says calmly. “We made a copy. Antoine worked at the blacksmith’s shop. You told him to repair the lock yourself.”  
  
Fernando knows that Gabi is enjoying Sergio’s badly concealed embarrassment. He’s ready to leave the world, but not without having his last laugh.  
  
“So you stole the grenades and blew up Block six,” Sergio states. “And now tell me, who switched off the power in the fence?”  
  
“I don’t betray my friends,” Gabi says. “Do you?”  
  
“You might want to reconsider,” Sergio folds his arms. “I’ll kill you quickly if you tell me that name.”  
  
“I’m not afraid of dying, nor pain. Tell me, that friend of yours, is he dead already or is he waiting for me?”  
  
Fernando sees the veins on Sergio’s neck pulse with suppressed anger. “I’ll find that man, and then I’ll send you to hell together!” he growls and turns back, followed by his suite of guards.  
  
The way Illarramendi’s eyes linger on Gabi’s face a moment longer and the twitch Gabi’s lips give tell Fernando what Sergio longs to know.  
  


***

  
“I’ll do it,” Fernando says when it’s completely quiet in the room. He’s hoping for Gabi to be already asleep, but then he sees the other man’s eyes glint.  
  
“Swear on the life of your children.”  
  
Fernando feels his lips tremble. “I swear on the life of my children.”  
  
“Good,” Gabi says. “Now listen. To get out, you have to trick them, not shoot your way out. And you can’t do it without help.”  
  
“Who would help me?”  
  
“Illarramendi,” Gabi whispers. “He’s your way out. Get him to assign you to work in the warehouse where they store the clothes. You’ll need a uniform.”  
  
“Why would he help me?”  
  
“Out of the same reason why he helped us. He’s Basque. The Basques are with the Resistance now. They have their people everywhere.”  
  
Fernando blinks.  
  
“When you have the uniform, you’ll steal Casillas’ car from the garages at the back of the camp. They won’t guard it now.”  
  
“That’s crazy,” Fernando whispers.  
  
“It’s still not running through the forest and relying on nothing but luck, hoping that all bullets will miss you,” Gabi smirks. “Look how easily you can run out of that luck.”  
  
“And if I manage to get the car?”  
  
“Drive it to the gate. The guards there don’t work on the camp, they won’t know you. If they don’t open the gate immediately, you’ll tell them that you got the order to drive Casillas’ car to his house. That will get you out and you can go to the women’s camp. The railway will lead you there. But in the women’s camp, you’ll have to improvise. I don’t know how it works there. Make something up. Win all or lose all.”  
  
Fernando nods slowly. The plan sounds crazy, but he knows that there is no way out without taking a risk, and if what Gabi said about the war is true, he needs to get out as soon as possible, before they kill him and burn his body to ashes together with the whole camp.  
  
“Come on now,” Gabi whispers. “You promised.”  
  
Fernando shivers, but makes a few steps to one of the beds where a few blankets are piled. He thinks about the man he was only weeks ago, afraid of every knock on the door, averting his eyes whenever he witnessed the Blancos arresting someone on the street, switching off the television whenever they showed one of the countless executions. He’s not afraid of anything anymore. He’s ready to die as well as he’s ready to kill a man.  
  
He grabs two of the folded blankets before he loses courage. He would pray for forgiveness if he still believed in God. But he doesn't. So he just presses the blankets on Gabi’s face and squeezes his eyes shut like not seeing what he is doing can make it better. Finally the tears start to flow and he sobs until he knows that he can let go of the blankets. Then he falls on his knees and curls up on himself, wailing like a wild animal, like the animal he’s become.  
  


***

  
The starched collar is too scratchy and the crisp white uniform feels so foreign on his body after weeks, maybe months spent in his rags, but curiously, he doesn’t feel more human like this. Probably because the Blancos aren’t really human.  
  
He tucks as much of his hair under the cap so that it looks shorter, and pulls the visor deep in his face to shade as much of it as possible. The shoes he has on are a bit too small for his feet, but it’s the best he could find, so it has to do.  
  
He sneaks out of the warehouse, waiting for someone to seize him that very moment. But there is nobody around. Finally he believes that Illarramendi is really who Gabi told him he was.  
  
The car is parked where Gabi told him it would be. It seems that nobody’s touched it since Casillas’ death. The keys of course aren’t there, but Fernando has learned quite a few things in his teenage years, and starting a car without keys was one of them.  
  
When he reaches the gate, he feels like he’s in a dream. Everything goes the way Gabi said it would. The guard is sitting in the booth, eating a sandwich. He doesn’t even look up when Fernando stops the car in front of the gate. He wonders whether he should wait for the guard to acknowledge him, or risk getting out of the car. Finally he decides for a compromise. He rolls down the window and leans out.  
  
“Open the gate!” he barks in his most authoritative voice.  
  
The guard lifts his eyes and is about to retort something, but then his eyes fall on the car and he puts down the sandwich quickly. Fernando realizes that he must think the car in fact belongs to Fernando, and only officers have such nice cars. He doesn’t even look at the uniform to check Fernando's supposed rank and opens the gate.  
  
Fernando drives out and when he sees the gate close behind him, he almost wants to laugh.  
  


***

  
He follows the railway as Gabi told him to. He doesn’t meet anyone on the way. It seems like the camps are built in some deserted land. It explains why Fernando never even knew they existed before he ended up in one of them.  
  
Then he reaches the women’s camp. The car opens the gate for him as easily as it did in his camp. He wishes he could drive through the whole camp, roll over whoever would stand in his way. But attention isn’t what he needs, so he stops the car behind the gate and just hopes he will find it again when he comes back. If he comes back.  
  
Nobody is paying attention to him, for which he is grateful. The camp isn’t much different from the one Fernando's just left, although it looks slightly smaller. The guards are both men and women, but there aren’t as many as Fernando remembers from the other camp.  
  
He makes way through the camp, without really knowing where to go. Then he runs out of his luck.  
  
“Hey!” someone calls.  
  
Fernando squeezes his eyes shut before carefully turning around. It’s a guard in a white uniform. Fernando’s heart stops, but the guard looks too friendly for someone who wants to shoot him.  
  
“Are you lost?” the guard grins.  
  
“Eh... yes,” Fernando improvises. “I’m here for the first time and I don’t know where to find...”  
  
“A tight pussy to fuck?” the guard laughs, wrapping and arm around Fernando’s shoulders like they are best friends. “There’s plenty.”  
  
Fernando thinks that he’ll throw up. “The sewing room,” he completes his sentence in a flat voice.  
  
“Good choice,” the guard says, probably enjoying what he has for Fernando's embarrassment. “Arbeloa sends the prettiest ones there. Why would that be? Oh wait, because he’s in charge of that place!”  
  
“Where would I find it, then?” Fernando asks, willing himself not to punch the guy in the face.  
  
“Over there,” the guard says and points to a building to their left. “Just make sure the bitch isn’t hiding scissors anywhere. Carvajal almost lost his eye once.”  
  
Fernando nods curtly and heads to the building. He has to force himself to walk calmly and not to run. He stops in front of the building, trying to figure out what he will do once he is inside. If he comes across that Arbeloa, for example. Then he runs out of luck for the second time.  
  
“Soldier!” a woman’s voice says. “What are you doing here?”  
  
Fernando looks at the woman and gulps. She is wearing a crisp white uniform decorated with all kinds of insignia that he cannot read, so it can’t help him to address her properly. Then he decides to risk it all. “Commander Rubio,” he says and salutes.  
  
She doesn’t shoot him immediately. Which means that he probably guessed her name right.  
  
“Commander Ramos sent me here,” he says.  _What the hell are you doing, what the hell are you doing?_  “He needs someone capable of repairing his uniform. Urgently.”  
  
 _This is so stupid that she either falls for it or fires a bullet in my head._  
  
“All right,” Rubio says after a while. “Take someone from the sewing room. And bring her back in the state you take her from here. I’m tired of your perversities already. Tell Commander Ramos that if it continues, I’m going to start doing the same thing with his inmates. He surely wouldn’t like it.”  
  
Fernando can’t speak because there’s bile in his throat, so he just salutes her again. She seems to be fine with it.  
  


***

  
The room is crammed with tables and sewing machines, lined with shelves full of white tissue, boxes of thread and scissors. The women in the room look like clones, all wearing simple grey dresses, hunched over the machines, silent. They are so similar that it takes him almost a minute to recognize his own wife.  
  
He almost rushes to Olalla, but a warning voice in his head that sounds eerily similar to Gabi’s yells at him to stop. If he just went up to her, she would recognize him and if she said anything that would catch anyone’s attention, it wouldn’t end well for them.  
  
He risks it once more and beckons the guard overseeing the room, a young girl with black hair and thin lips. “I need someone to repair my commander’s uniform,” he says and points at Olalla. “That one. Is she good?”  
  
The girl looks at him and Fernando almost physically feels her eyes lingering on the strand of hair sticking out from underneath his cap and the missing gun on his belt that he’s been trying to cover up with the coat.  _She knows_ , flashes through his mind as she lays a hand on her own gun.  
  
“Why her?” she asks.  
  
He doesn’t know what to do. He could make up some stupid excuse, but then she would only shoot him faster. Suddenly he is too tired to lie anymore. He knows it’s the end, he just wants to curl up on the floor and wait for someone to bring him back to Sergio, so that Sergio can kill him in front of everyone when he didn’t get the chance to do it to Gabi.  
  
“She’s my wife,” he breathes out.  
  
The girl doesn’t let go of her gun, but she lowers her voice so that Fernando can barely hear her when she speaks again. “Are you from Asier?”  
  
Fernando blinks, trying to figure out what it means and what is the right answer. Then it hits him. “Asier... Illarramendi?”  
  
The guard takes a breath but in that moment, a tall, dark-haired officer enters the room and looks at them with something akin to suspicion. “Corporal Andonegi, do you have a problem here?” he asks.  
  
“No, sir,” she says and looks at Fernando. “Wait outside. I’ll send her out.”  
  


***

  
It feels like an hour before Olalla appears in front of the building. Making sure that nobody is around, Fernando grabs her hand and pulls her behind the corner.  
  
“Fernando!” she breathes out. “You’re... you’re alive!”  
  
“Of course I am,” he whispers. “Didn’t you get the messages?”  
  
“What messages?”  
  
Fernando curses his own stupidity and wishes he could stab Sergio in the eye with scissors like that legendary girl tried to stab that Carvajal, whoever he is. “Never mind,” he says and looks around. “Where are the kids?”  
  
Olalla is just looking at him bluntly.  
  
“The kids, Olalla. Where are the kids?”  
  
“I... I don’t know,” she says. “They took them away, the first day.”  
  
Fernando somehow manages not to think of the worst, not to think of Gabi’s strange shrug when he asked him about his kids. If they are to have at least some hope, they need to get out alive themselves.  
  
“So they are not here? Are you sure?”  
  
It works like magic, like he just snapped his fingers and Olalla woke up. “Do you think that I didn’t turn this camp upside down?” she hisses. “Do you think that I didn’t scream for them every night?”  
  
Fernando wants to hug her, but it would look more than suspicious. They have already stayed there longer than they should have.  
  
“I told them I was taking you to our camp,” he whispers. “Play along.”  
  
He grips her arm and puts all the effort into walking calmly to the car. When he starts it again, all he prays for is for Casillas to have tanked up enough gas to take them to Madrid.  
  


***

  
Fernando feels like a criminal, hiding under the staircase, behind trash bins.  _You_ are _a criminal_ , he reminds himself. Someone has just entered the house. Fernando prays for the person not to go to throw anything out. Then the steps sound on the staircase right above his head and they continue upstairs. He waits for the steps to disappear behind closed door. He listens carefully. The house is quiet.  
  
He runs up the stairs and rings the bell. It takes a while before he can hear someone approaching the door. The key turns twice in the lock and then David Villa’s face appears in the gap.  
  
“David...” Fernando breathes out.  
  
“Fuck! Are you mad?” Villa hisses.  
  
“David, please, we need...”  
  
“For fuck’s sake, get out of here!” Villa snaps. “Meet me at the usual place at midnight!”  
  
And then David Villa slams the door in his face.


	6. Six

Fernando doesn’t smoke, but when Villa offers him a cigarette, he can’t say no to it. Anything that calms his nerves at least a little is more than welcome.  
  
“What you did was quite a stunt,” Villa notes. “Well, you can’t stay here, that’s for sure.”  
  
“My kids are still somewhere out there,” Fernando says. “I can’t leave.”  
  
“And how do you want to find them when every member of the law-enforcement agencies already has your picture in their pads?”  
  
Fernando bites on his lip. They found shelter at a friend of Olalla’s. She told them that they couldn’t stay for long, but at least she let them take a shower, got them some clean clothes and fed them. Fernando also wasn’t so anxious to leave Olalla there as he went to meet Villa. Somehow he got the feeling that she needed to talk to a woman rather than him. He also feels much more comfortable talking to Villa now. “There could be some records in the camp,” he says suddenly.  
  
“I hope you don’t want to go back there,” Villa looks at him incredulously.  
  
Fernando shivers at the thought, but then he looks at Villa defyingly. “No. But when they liberate the camps...”  
  
“To liberate the camps you’d need to liberate the city first, my friend,” Villa sighs. “And we’re far from that.”  
  
“But I’ve heard that the Basques were with the Resistance now! Why don’t they send their army?”  
  
“Who? Aduriz? Don’t be stupid,” Villa shakes his head. “The Basques will help us, but only as much as not to endanger their independence. And we can’t really blame them. What they are doing now is already more than we deserve.”  
  
“But the Blancos are already planning how to cover up for everything! They’ll kill them all in the camps if we don’t...”  
  
“That is not your problem right now, Fernando!” Villa snaps. “You have quite a few problems of your own. You are still a criminal by law, you are an escapee from a camp, you can’t stay in this city and you have no idea where your children are! Don’t you want to start with solving one of  _these_ problems before you start with saving the world?”  
  
Fernando takes a deep breath because a part of him wants to punch Villa in the face, even though he knows that he is right. Then he slumps against the wall and takes a deep drag of the cigarette. “I won’t leave the city until I find my children,” he says.  
  
“If you stay, there will be nobody to look for them very soon,” Villa states. “If they are alive, we’ll find them. But what will dead parents be good for? Besides, maybe they are not in Madrid anymore.”  
  
“How do you want to find them, then?”  
  
“Don’t worry. Looking for people is Silva’s specialty.”  
  
“Silva isn’t even in this country!” Fernando retorts. “How could he find them?”  
  
“He has his ways,” Villa replies in the same sharp voice. “If they are on this planet, he can find them. Now let’s focus on you and Olalla. You’ll need fake passports. That will take a while. We’ll have to find you a place where you could stay until then.”  
  
Fernando closes his eyes. He remembers his own house, remembers the people following him to the basement, the fear in their eyes and their gratefulness. He is now one of those people, at the mercy of someone risking their lives like he risked his.  


 

***

  
Villa is a man of his words in some things. He indeed finds a place for Fernando and Olalla to stay at. When Fernando sees the young boy that offers them his place, he thinks of Antoine and Saúl and almost wants to refuse his help, but this Lucas insists that he knows the risks. Fernando thinks that he knows nothing, that he can’t even imagine.  
  
Villa also tells Fernando that the easiest way will be to get them to the Basque Country and then they will see. The only international airport in Spain is controlled by the Blancos and trying to get on a plane with a fake passport would be a suicide. The Basques on the borders don’t look at the passports too closely, mainly when advised not to do so by the Resistance.  
  
Whenever Fernando and Olalla ask Villa whether they are looking for their children, though, he mumbles “of course, of course” and says he has to leave. Lucas tries to help them at least by delivering messages between them and some acquaintances, but it’s fruitless and when Villa finds out about it, he almost kills Lucas on spot.  


 

***

  
The world changes rapidly while they are standing still.  
  
Sergio is no longer the head of the camp. Nobody knows what happened to him. He simply disappeared. Maybe he knew so many things that they needed to get rid of him in secret. Maybe he understood the danger soon enough and fled. Fernando doesn’t really care. Or maybe he actually hopes that Sergio wasn’t lucky.  
  
Probably because Illarramendi and Andonegi weren’t. The Blancos executed them in front of the Palacio Nacional. They saw it on television, as the government made sure to cover it. Olalla cried. Fernando didn’t. As twisted as it was, when he saw Illarramendi’s bruised face and how the executioners miscalculated the length of the rope, without a doubt not accidentally, it made Fernando feel somehow better about what he did to Gabi.  
  
The Sevillan soldiers get within kilometers of Madrid. The Blancos, in what Villa calls the “last stand” with fake enthusiasm, massacre them. Valencia decides to temporarily retreat after that. Fernando's hopes of being able to stay in Madrid and look for his children are shattered again.  
  
Then one day Villa sends word for Fernando to be at a subway station at two in the afternoon. No explanation given.  


 

***

  
The subway is full of people. Fernando is standing at the entrance, trying not to look suspicious. He keeps looking at his watch, pretending that he is just waiting for a friend, although he doesn’t know what he is waiting for. Two soldiers pass him by, but they don’t pay him any attention. Then a young man crashes into him, almost knocking him to the ground.  
  
“Sorry, sorry!” he man blurts out, but doesn’t let go. He is practically  _hugging_  Fernando.  
  
Before the camp, Fernando would probably say something not very nice to him. Now his instincts are different. He tries to act like nothing happened and disappear quickly. The man also doesn’t look like he is genuinely sorry. There is something mischievous in his eyes.  
  
“Saúl sends his regards,” he whispers in Fernando's ear, lets go of him and walks away like nothing happened.  
  
Fernando looks into the crowd even when the man disappears among other people. Then he reaches in his pocket and frowns. There is something that wasn’t there before. He pulls it out and gasps.  
  
He is looking at two fake passports.  


 

***

  
The car stops in front of Lucas’ house at midnight. Fernando and Olalla get in quickly. They are carrying only a small bag with some clothes given to them by Olalla’s friend and the fake passports. Their old life, house and memories have to stay in Madrid.  
  
Villa smiles contentedly from behind the steering wheel. “I see Aarón found you,” he says. “It took me a lot of persuading to get him to give you the passports. His brother apparently thought you were an asshole and a traitor. Only when I told them your story, he changed his opinion.”  
  
Fernando blinks. “The guy who gave me the passports was... Saúl’s brother?”  
  
Villa nods and starts the car.  
  
“So Saúl is okay?”  
  
“As much as he can be, I’d say, though a little bit too eager to pay back to the Blancos. The group of trigger-happy youngsters he’s joined sometimes gets us in trouble more than they help us,” Villa says, looking over his shoulder. “I won’t take you all the way to the borders, that would be too risky. I’ll drive you out of Madrid and then get you to some train station.”  
  
“Don’t they patrol the trains?” Olalla asks, fidgeting nervously.  
  
“They do,” Villa nods. “But you have the passports.”  
  
The passports seem to be a very small protection against the searching looks of the Blancos and their guns, but there is no safe way.  
  
They stay silent almost all the way out of Madrid. Villa is carefully watching the road, and even more carefully checks the mirrors for any suspicious vehicles. It’s almost morning when he stops at a train station in some small town and hands them the train tickets.  
  
“San Sebastián?” Fernando asks, not like it matters to him where they will go.  
  
“Yes,” Villa nods. “Xabi will wait for you at the station and take you to your new place. All you have to do is to get there safely. Don’t act weird on the train. Pretend that you’re going to visit your family. You have the passports, you have the permission, nothing can happen. Just don’t freak out when the soldiers appear, if they appear. Now hurry up, the train is leaving soon.”  
  
Fernando nods and puts the tickets in his pocket. Olalla doesn’t move from the spot. “What about the children?” she asks then. “I won’t go anywhere unless you tell me something.”  
  
Villa sighs deeply. “We’re working on it.”  
  
“That’s not enough.”  
  
Villa’s eyes dart to the clock hanging above the platform. “All right,” he says then. “We checked the records from the camp. Andonegi was able to get them to us before...”  
  
Olalla takes a sharp breath, but continues looking at Villa defyingly.  
  
“They are not in the records,” Villa says. “And it’s a good thing. If they were there, it would mean...”  
  
“Then what does it mean if they aren’t there?” she almost shrieks. A man in a dark suit gives them an outraged look.  
  
“It means that they took them somewhere else,” Villa says quickly. “And that’s all we know for now. If we find out anything else, you’ll be the first to know. I promise.”  
  
Olalla stands still for a moment, then turns around and starts walking towards the train without bidding Villa goodbye.  


 

***

  
They find an empty compartment and Fernando throws the bag in the net above the seats but keeps the passports in his pocket. Olalla keeps staring at one point on the wall of the compartment.  
  
“Why are we even doing this?” she asks then. “What sense is in running away without them?”  
  
“You heard Villa,” Fernando says. “They are somewhere out there, they...”  
  
“Don’t you know what the Blancos do with the children?” she turns to him. “I’ve heard the women in the camp, I’ve heard the guards... They take them to children’s homes and place them in different families, in those ‘loyal to the regime’ as they say.”  
  
“But they are alive!” Fernando says and touches her hand.  
  
Olalla jerks away as though he’d stung her. “I’d rather see them dead,” she hisses. “Than growing up with strangers that will feed them lies about us, that will maybe make them love them and hate us, I’d rather know they were gone than imagine that one day Leo will wear a white uniform and rape women in the camps, that Nora will marry one of the monsters and bear his children!”  
  
She doesn’t speak all the way to San Sebastián, leaving Fernando to the images that she created in his head with her words.  


 

***

  
Fernando sits in a small bar in San Sebastián. He never liked going out alone before, but now it’s the only way not to go mad sometimes. The camp built a wall between him and Olalla, and sometimes it’s unbearable to stay together in the small apartment. It’s almost like they compete in who is more desperate, they accuse each other of not doing enough, of being cowards, of being selfish. And even when it’s not about their children, there are the silences that are as bad as the fights. Fernando never tells Olalla about Sergio, about the days in Sergio’s office, about the deals. She never asks about it. He never asks about the bruises on her body he saw the first evening and about the nightmares she has.  
  
There is a TV planted on the wall and he stares at the screen, pretending that whatever is playing there interests him, only to avoid conversation with the locals. The volume is too low for him to actually hear anything, but even if it was louder, he wouldn’t understand. Most of the local programs are in Basque now. The images show a square probably somewhere in Bilbao. There is a large crowd gathered in front of some stage, waiting for something. There are soldiers as well, and then a man walks up to the platform. Fernando knows who it is, as in the few weeks he’s spent in the Basque country he’s seen enough of Aritz Aduriz on the news, in the newspapers and on posters hung everywhere on the streets. But there is someone else on the stage, and Fernando's breath hitches in his throat when he recognizes him. Even when the camera shifts to him, Fernando knows that it’s Sergio. He’d recognize him everywhere. Even though this isn’t the Sergio Fernando remembers. His clothes are dirty and his hands are bound. The only thing that remains is the cold and distant look in his eyes.  
  
“They caught him on the borders,” he hears one man say, obviously referring to Sergio. “Had a fake passport. When the guard found out it was fake, that bastard tried to shoot his way through. Killed three guards.”  
  
“Good that they caught him,” his friend nods. “We don’t need those fuckers in our country.”  
  
Fernando doesn’t miss anything, like his mind is suddenly able to take in several things at once. He sees everything, the way Aduriz gestures wildly during his speech, the line of soldiers standing in front of the stage, the band on the sleeve of one of them. It reminds him of Sergio’s red band, but this one is in the colors of  _ikurriña_. He notices how the soldier shakes his head slightly to get his bangs out of his eyes. Sergio is the only one that doesn’t move.  
  
Aduriz finishes his speech and the crowd applauds. Then they turn they attention to the stage and to Sergio. Fernando can’t hear anything, but he can see the way their expressions change from pure rapture to fanatic rage, he can see them waving their fists in the air and screaming. For a moment he thinks that they will invade the stage and rip Sergio to pieces, or that they will start throwing stones. But it never happens.  
  
Instead, Aduriz gives the soldier with the band a sign. The soldier walks up the stairs and the rest of the line follows him. They stand facing Sergio while the first one stands to the side. Then Fernando understands who the soldier is. He is the officer of the firing squad.  
  
Fernando guesses his words because they can’t be anything else than  _ready, aim, fire_. The people in the bar cheer and the old man who first said that it was good Sergio was caught taps his glass on the table contentedly. Fernando just gazes at the screen and it feels almost like he is on that square.  
  
Then he realizes that it’s not over. By some miracle or clumsiness of the soldiers, not all of the bullets have hit the target. Sergio is bleeding, but he is clearly still alive. Fernando feels his heart clench at the disgruntlement of the crowd almost transmitted through the screen. But before the crowd can go wild, the officer of the squad pulls out his own pistol, makes two quick steps and fires a bullet in Sergio’s head.  
  
“He didn’t deserve a honorary death like this,” the old man mumbles.  
  
Fernando thinks of Illarramendi and Andonegi and cannot help himself but agree.  


 

***

  
The war ends as it began. Slowly the white uniforms disappear from the streets. Some Blancos turn their coats, some leave the country, some are arrested. The army of Valencia liberates some of the camps. All that remains of the others are only ashes. The monarchy is restored. Villa gets a place in the renewed government. Fernando and Olalla return to Madrid, each on a different train, each to a different house.  
  
Life hits the streets like when spring comes after a long winter. Except that for Fernando, it’s already lost sense.  
  
Then one afternoon, the doorbell rings in his new house. When he opens the door, there is a familiar figure standing at the doorstep.  
  
“Saúl?” Fernando breathes out. It’s not like they were friends in the camp, and even though Villa told him that Saúl changed his mind after he learned Fernando's story, Fernando still doesn’t think Saúl would stop by just to have a cup of tea and reminisce on the old times. Mainly because the old times aren’t anything either of them would like to reminisce on.  
  
“I owe you an apology,” Saúl says without even greeting Fernando. “And thanks. For Gabi.”  
  
“You came just to tell me this?” Fernando frowns.  
  
“Actually, no. I brought a friend that was looking for you.” He nods to the car waiting on the sidewalk and the boy leaning over it. “This is Óliver. He’s apparently found something that belongs to you.”  
  
Óliver smiles and opens the back door and Fernando forgets to breathe. There is Nora sitting on the backseat, with her hair in pigtails, alive and seemingly unharmed, clutching a small backpack like she’s just returned from a school trip. Óliver helps her out of the car and smiles somehow proudly when he sees Fernando's expression.  
  
“How did you find her? Where?” Fernando asks when he finds his voice again.  
  
“In one of the children’s homes,” Óliver says. “We’re trying to find the children they stole from the parents, so... I walked in and said my name was Óliver Torres, and this young lady came to me and whispered in my ear that she was a Torres too, but that she was told not to tell anyone.”  
  
Fernando takes a step and spreads his arms to embrace his daughter. Nora glances up at him and narrows her eyes.  
  
Then she throws her arms around Óliver’s waist and hides her face in his jacket.  


 

***

  
“It’s normal,” Óliver assures Fernando when they are inside the house. Nora is still sitting in his lap, eyeing Fernando mistrustfully as though he is a wild animal about to attack her. “I’ve seen this many times. It will take a while, but it will be all right.”  
  
“They fed them a bunch of lies,” Saúl adds. “About how you left them because you didn’t love them, because you were bad people that deserved to be punished, and that they were lucky they were taken from you and would get better parents... Bastards.”  
  
The doorbell rings. Fernando had called Olalla as soon as he remembered that something like phones existed, and now she runs in as soon as he opens the door. “Where is she?” she asks breathlessly, autumn rain dripping from her hair.  
  
“In the living room, but...” Fernando says and seizes Olalla’s arm before she can run away. “Olalla. She’s...”  
  
“What?” Olalla looks at him. “Is she hurt?”  
  
“No, but...” he looks her in the eyes. “Maybe she won’t be happy to see you. As she wasn’t happy to see me.”  
  
Olalla walks in and Nora lifts her head. Her eyes go wide for a moment and Fernando almost thinks that she will jump up and run to Olalla, but then the sparkle disappears and Nora closes herself in her little shell again. She doesn’t hide anymore, she even allows Olalla to sit next to her, but she is indifferent, quiet, detached, almost like she lost her memory.  
  
“She was in one of those homes, wasn’t she?” Olalla asks. Her tone suggests that she has done her research on them, because Nora’s behavior doesn’t seem to be as shocking to her as it was for Fernando.  
  
“Yes,” Óliver nods. “In Cáceres.”  
  
“What about Leo?” she asks. “Our son?”  
  
Óliver shakes his head. “Apparently he was in the same home, but by the time we got there, he was already gone.”  
  
“They prefer the boys,” Saúl says. “Preferred, actually. Not sure what they will do with them now since they can’t bring up new monsters in white uniforms.”  
  
“But you will keep looking?!”  
  
“Yes,” Óliver nods. “Of course.”  
  
Fernando marvels at the way his presence calms Olalla down, the way he never could calm her down. Like she and Óliver communicate without words, like they know something Fernando doesn’t know or understand something he can’t understand.  
  
“I have to go,” Óliver says then and gets up. “I have plenty of... deliveries.”  
  
“I hope they pay you in gold,” Fernando says.  
  
“Ha, nope!” Óliver laughs. “We’re volunteers. The new government doesn’t have much to work with.”  
  
Fernando walks him and Saúl to the door and then looks at him gravely. “How big is the chance that you find him?” he asks. “And be honest with me.”  
  
“Not very big,” Óliver sighs. “If he’s already been placed in a family... We don’t really have means to find those kids. They have a different name now, sometimes they change even their first name. And the documents are often missing. DNA tests would help but how are you going to test all children in this country? Besides that, if they put him in a family that was loyal to the regime, it’s possible that they left the country after the war.”  
  
Fernando nods weakly.  
  
“I’m sorry I only brought you half a joy,” Óliver says and walks out in the rain.  


 

***

  
When Fernando walks back in the living room, Nora is sleeping on the sofa. Olalla is sitting on the armrest, running her fingers through Nora’s hair gently. “She hates us,” she whispers. “And she has all the right to hate us.”  
  
“No, she doesn’t hate us,” Fernando says firmly. “She only thinks that she does. It’s up to us to prove that we are not who they told her we were.”  
  
“Are we really not?” Olalla looks at him. “We didn’t do anything to prove ourselves. All we managed to do was to stay alive.”  
  
“We can prove ourselves now.”  
  
Olalla nods and looks at Nora. It reminds Fernando of the way they were looking at her when she was born, when she was a miracle. “Can I stay here over the night?” Olalla asks. “I’d like to be here when she wakes up.”  
  
“You can stay here as long as you want.”  
  
They sit in silence for a long time. Then Olalla hesitantly moves her hand to touch Fernando's. “We’re going to make it, right?” she whispers. “Together?”  
  
“Yes,” Fernando nods and places his hand over hers. “Together.”  
  
They stay like that all the night, hoping that in the morning when she wakes up, Nora will once again call them “mom” and “dad”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- In case the “miscalculated rope” reference wasn’t clear, if the rope is the right length as calculated by the person’s weight and height, it causes death almost immediately by breaking the person’s neck. If miscalculated, the person will basically die of strangulation, which is much more painful and could take up to 30 minutes before the person dies. 
> 
> \- The Palacio Nacional is actually the Palacio Real de Madrid. Since there is no monarchy in this society, I used the name that was in use during the Second Republic.


End file.
